


Outlast: Death March

by TwistedWytch



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2020-05-02 11:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedWytch/pseuds/TwistedWytch
Summary: A year after the events at Mount Massive Asylum and Waylon Park is living a desolate life incognito. That is until an old friend reappears, throwing his life back into turmoil in an on the run escape from the evil corporation.





	1. A Broken Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU in which Waylon was to late to save Lisa and the boys. They tragically perished at the hand of the Murkoff Corporation leaving Waylon a broken man.

It had been a year since those dark days at Mount Massive Asylum and now it all seemed like such a distant dream. A nightmare, if you will. The sort that keeps the waking from their slumber in the depths of night. Preying upon the psyche, and devouring the last bits of humanity from the soul like a rabid dog. 

So what happens after such nightmares plague the living and the downtrodden? Nothing but the trickle of insanity of course. Like putrid waste it covers and consumes the broken until they are left with nothing. Such a poetic end for the divinity of a man. Especially one that fought so hard and so long amidst the bowels of a sinister plot. Now Waylon Park sat alone each night at the old bar, choking back one bottle after another in a vague, yet cliche, attempt to drown out the pain.

His form was far thinner then a year prior, and his hair was shaggy and in his eyes. A far cry from the decorated computer technician he used to be. If only Lisa could see him now. How disappointed in him she would be. Offering her words of disapproval in a sharp upper toned squall as she pointed a finger at him like she was disciplining a child. How cute that would be, and he, of course, would have no choice but to comply without fail. Without a single word against her beautiful standing. While her hair would be a mess from the frustration and her eyes scornful, she would still be a vision of loveliness to behold. She always was.

With that thought fresh in his mind Waylon took another big drink if the beer to finish it off before haphazardly tossing the bottle over the bar sending it to the floor by the bartenders feet with a loud clunk. An action to which the man grimaced and gave the destitute blonde a low grumble of disapproval as he leaned over the counter on his palms.

“Listen Mr. Parkinson. You can’t toss the bottles onto this side. We’ve been through this.”

Waylon just rolled his eyes and folding his arms loosely over the wooden flat top. He was in no position to rightfully care about anything right now. Not that he didn’t want to. But, the last time he did that it cost him the lives of his beloved family. The worst of it was Murkoff was completely off the hook. True, Mount Massive was shut down, and whatever patients that were left were relocated but there was never any solid proof the corporation Murkoff was directly involved. They did a good job covering their tracks, and making Mount Massive Asylum look like some simplistic, crazy doctor-operated loony bin and that was it.

The thought only seemed to make him angrier and the once proud computer tech could only clench his fist tightly in aggravation at the thought of it all. He was in no position to do anything. His reputation was ruined, his family was gone,and now he had to live in some small backwards town in the middle of god forsaken nowhere with a dumb alias name. That was it, that’s all he had now. This small semblance of what was left over from a life was his.

There had been many times he contimplated suicide. A quick way out and relief from all the pain thrown upon him. This was something that he figured most would understand coming from a broken man, but when it came right down to it he never did have the balls to see it through to the end. Where did all that gaul go? All that push and shove he had back in Mount Massive? He suspected it vanished with them. Lisa and the boys. 

So, alone he sat all this time too sad to accomplish much of anything worthwhile and too scared to say the forever farewell. Just a loser and a drunk who liked to pick fights he couldn’t win. Could he even be called a person anymore? 

“Lou, another,” He chimed. Slurring his words a bit so that his drunken state seemed a bit more advanced then it truly was. 

The bartender merely shook his head and pulled the rag off his belt to begin a wipe down of that section of the bar. “Sorry Parkinson, you’re far too gone as it is.” He chuckles like lightly and shook his head. “It’s about 5 minutes earlier than yesterday, too. Ya gotta learn to take it easy.”

The sneer that came from Waylon was almost humorous as his face contorted into a sloppy formation of disappointment. He knew from experience that arguing with the bartender would be pointless so he slid off the stool in a vague attempt at stomping out angrily only to find himself sliding right to the floor in a resounding “Oomph.” A feet that only served to generate a chorus of laughter from the corner of the room.

“Fuck you,” he found himself cursing to the din. His blurry vision distorting the visage as it approached.

“You alright there Parkinson?” Came Lou’s voice and the stranger chimed in with a shrill cackle.

“Parkinson...Really?”

“You know em?”

“Yeah, we’re...old friends you could say.”

“Then ya mind gettin him on home? I doubt he could walk in this way.”

“Sure I can take em...err did you say walk?”

“Yeah. He walk’s here everyday or so. Has a binge then cries about some gal named Liza or something. Poor guy.”

“Yeah. I’ll take it from here no worries. Thanks man.”

The whole while Waylon just sat there. His world spinning in a circle as he listened. The voices around him melding into one as he began to drift. Surely, he had answered them. However when there was no response he figured that they didn’t here so he decided not to press anything further. 

As he felt himself being lifted, his stomach churned and shot into his throat with such force that everything came up and out. It was hot, and stung his throat but the soft hand on his back seemed to offer some comfort, even if only a little. It didn’t stop the force of the vomit, however, and Waylon quickly found himself hunched over what he suspected to be a chair as he emptied all the contents of his stomach. 

When he came to, he was in his bed, with the light shining in between the slit of the curtains, landing conveniently over his eyes. Like any normal reaction he grimaced and turned away from ot only to be met with a pounding in his brain. Waylon winced clutching his head. He was getting used to the Walrider’s effects but this headache was nothing like that. It was just another of the many hangovers he was coming accustomed to having almost every morning. It seemed like the natural routine at this point.

Giving a groan he grabbed the pillow from under his head with the intent of covering himself from the blinding light, only to be halted by the sound of clanking in the kitchen nearby. His trailer was a bit off the beaten path, down an old gravel road a way in the midst of a tree grove. Not just anybody knew where he lived. Hell, he even used a P.O. box to get his mail and nobody in town was close enough to him to have figured it out. It must be a burglar. Slowly the blonde stood, his legs quaking beneath him as he struggled to regain some semblance of balance between the painful bursts in the hangover. He couldn’t do much in this state but if he could sneak up on the intruder he might be able to get a good hit in.

Picking up a baseball bat, the thin male pulled it over his shoulder as he tiptoed towards the door. Luckily it had been left ajar just slightly so that the creak of the knob turn wouldn’t be a problem. The door, however, was in decent condition and didn’t offer much of a creak as it opened. Waylon had been a stickler for such details ever since he was younger. A habit that rubbed off on him even now. Lisa would often say he made so much fuss over the little things, and she was probably right. 

Cautiously sticking an arm passed the opening, he inched the light slab of wood out of the way. There indeed was a stranger. He was in the kitchen. Viewable just over the island that separated it from the living room. Waylon couldn’t tell what he was doing exactly, only that he was messing with some dishes. Perhaps searching for any hidden savings? 

As he krept closer the man gave a loud cackle but did not turn around. Instead he spoke heartily and with gusto.

“You may think you’re quiet but you really aren’t. I could hear you stomping like an elephant the whole time.”

The blonde halted in his tracks. Confused at the brunette’s statements, yet intrigued by the sound of his voice. It didn’t seem...vile. Not in the sense that Waylon understood the word anyway. Mischievous sure, but not bad. Possibly even a bit familiar? 

Slowly he lowered the bat, keeping it only waste high in case he would be needed it again. “Who are you?” he demanded in a voice that came out more like a grumble then the stern way it was intended.

“Ha, I’m surprised you don’t recognize me Park,” came the sarcastic reply. “After all, I did save your life from that asshole monkey in the suit...and you did steal my jeep.”

Waylon’s eyes went as wide as saucers and the bat fell from his fingers. “M...Miles?”


	2. The Get Away

The brunette snickered, spinning around to face the smaller man. He crossed his arms casually and leaned back against the counter in a nonchalaunt stance as his dark eyes looked up and then down over the bewildered shivering frame. “In the flesh,” he replied with a smirk. His tongue running briefly over his thin lips. “You uh...look like you’ve seen a ghost there Park. Or should I say Parkinson.” He let loose a loud cackle and shook his head. “Really? Parkinson? You couldn’t have picked something a bit more...different?”

“I panicked,” came the reply. A still uneasy Waylon taking a hesitant step forward. “I saw a doctors office out the window and I panicked.”

Mile’s turned slightly to glance at something behind him momentarily before returning his attention to Waylon. “I don’t think I will ever understand you Park. You’re one trippy son of a bitch.”

The blonde rolled his eyes. An act that earned him a good pound in the noggin from the verberation of the hangover. Causing him to wince slightly and give a pained groan. Almost immediately Miles responded with a couple asprin’s and a small glass of water. Of course Waylon took them quickly not bothering to dwell on the notion that Mile’s had so diligently pulled the items from their respective cabinets. Indication of his snooping about while the latter slept. Nevertheless, it wasn't something to get into an argument about. It was pretty clear that Mile’s was the one who had brought him home, and he did need the Asprin. All of that proposed another question however. One that made the former technician tremble slightly.

“How did you know where I live?”

Miles’ face dropped a little and his cocky nature seemed to dwindle just a bit as he let out a hefty sigh. Once again turning away. This time however he came back with two cups of coffee, and handed one out to the other before speaking.

“Well that’s something that you aint gonna like,” he replied with a somewhat raspy tone. “It was rather difficult with my limited resources but, with some of Murkoff’s intel I was able to find you.”

 

“M...Murkoff,” Waylon stuttered fearfully. “Are you working with Murkoff?”

“Hell no Park get your head outta your ass and listen to me. I hacked into a bit of their software. After you left in MY FUCKING JEEP I had to help myself. The Walrider it seems can only go that dark for a limited time and soon after you skedaddled, it lay waste to many of the other variants before finally just...shutting off.” He paused to take a sip of the coffee. Something that Waylon saw fit to replicate.

“After that I sorta passed out. When I came to I could hear this voice in my brain. It kept chanting your name over and over.”

“My name?” Waylon interrupted. “But why?”

Miles shrugged. “Still not sure on that detail. All I know is that voice was the Walrider and it really wanted to find you. It’s what gave me the idea to hack into the system. Only problem is, I had to take some of their software with me in order to do all that. That sorta things isn’t my strong suit yaknow. So, it took quite a while as you can see. Many sleepless nights of Youtube hacker tutorials.” He laughed a bit at the patheticness of the situation he was describing. “But now that I found you there is a good chance that Murkoff may find you as well. Whether they have yet remains to be seen. So I suggest we pack up some clothes, grab all the cash you got and hit the highway before anyone comes a knockin.”

Waylon felt his whole body going numb. This was all happening too fast. Just last night he was wallowing in self pity at the best bar in this shithole of a town and now he was going on the run again. Everything about all of this was almost too much to bear. It felt like a bad rerun of the year prior. Only this time He wasn’t completely alone in it. Still, he had to take a step back and fully analyze the situation. Stop, and really take a moment to absorb everything. If not he was sure he would go completely mad right then and there. To his surprise Miles said nothing. Only sipped his coffee in silence as the ever so ill confident Waylon took his precious time.

It almost seemed like a bad dream. Any minute now Waylon would wake up and be back to his sad, mediocre life of bag boy and booze. Living the remainder of his lonely, pathetic life in some small semblance of peace. Well, what was left of it. However, just like back at Mount Massive, simply telling himself that didn’t make it so and Waylon Park found himself very quickly beginning to question everything around him.

“Where would we go? Just live on the road from place to place?” The tremble in his voice did little to hide his fear.

“Better that then whatever Murkoff would do to you,” Miles retorted with another sip.

As much as he hated to admit it, The rundown journalist was right. 100% right as a matter of fact. They both had witnessed firsthand what the devilish corporation was capable of. Who's to say they wouldn’t do worse if they caught either of them and what about the walrider? That thing was inside Miles. Though clearly on their side for some reason. All in all it was a huge nerve wrecking ordeal that would alter any chance at a normal life once they drove off the property but, Waylon suspected that that sort of dream would be reserved for only those persons who never had the luxury of an encounter with Murkoff. Thus he gave a sigh and looked at the taller male. His eyes reflecting his understanding as well as his nervousness over the whole thing.

Suddenly, almost like a couple of dogs noticing a squirrel or rabbit just over yonder. Both men turned and looked toward the far wall. The thick curtains were drawn shut but neither needed to see out that window to know what was out there. No, the slow moving thick thuds, of heavy boots told them everything they needed to know. Somebody was slowly moving through the yard and up the driveway to the house. Both men halted. Almost emotionless as they listened. The footfalls continued around the yard, but didn’t get any closer. Instead they merely circled the small house before trailing back off the way they had come. Like whoever it was had just simply gone away after a quick once over. 

Mile’s knew better though, as did Waylon. Quickly as he could he stumbled back into his bedroom, grabbing a duffle bag and throwing some clothes inside. He hardly bothered to look at what it was but since he only owned plain T-shirts and blue jeans at this point there wasn’t going to be much in the way of mismatching outfits. Not that Waylon cared either way. The next thing inside was his tooth brush and pretty much the entire medicine cabinet from the bathroom. Including a small lock box from under the sink.

“Hurry up Park,” Miles called from the kitchen. “That pecker is probably calling in Murkoff right now for all we know.”

“I’m coming,” Waylon responded clumsily as he tumbled out with the duffle in hand. “I’ve got everything important.”

Miles stepped to the door, looking out the peephole carefully before swinging it open. He then slowly checked around the corner before nodding to Waylon, giving him the all clear with a motion of his hand. “The Jeep’s there, just throw your shit in the back.”

Waylon could only sigh and shake his head as he observed a jeep, similar in style to the one he had so carefully disposed of a year prior sitting haphazardly parked in his mess of a driveway. He guessed there was no bickering about it now though. Although, to the computer genius it made little sense to have a vehicle so close to the one you had previously if you were trying to keep attention off of you. Then again, he had made a similar blunder with his fake name so hardly anything could really be said about this situation at present. 

After tossing the duffle into the trunk he quickly made his way around to the passenger side and hopped in. His comrade didn’t join him right away, but stood momentarily out of view searching the surroundings. It was like the man had become a master at staying off the grid and running from the authorities. Perhaps having a little more faith in him wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Waylon thus made a mental note to properly apologize and thank Miles for all this once they were somewhere safer.

That moment however, couldn’t come soon enough for the pair. Especially when Miles turned tail and leapt into the driver seat through the open window. “Their coming down the main way,” He said turning the key. “But they are taking their sweet time with it because they are convinced you have booby traps hidden around here. There a back way?” 

“Yes,” the other replied quickly. “Just get around that tree there and it’s an old trail leading out. It’ll be a bit rough but I think your jeep can handle it.”

 

“You kidding?” Miles laugh backing up slightly and pulling forward in the direction Waylon had gestured. “This baby was made for off road.” With that he peeled out and was off passed the trees as instructed.

This back road was very much hidden by the overgrowth of weeds. Now normal vehicle could get through it. It was part of the reason Waylon had chosen that trailer to begin with. It seemed more protected that way. However he never thought he would have to use it at all. Now, zooming passed the rocks, over the bummy duvets and clutter he was glad they did. Only a mere 5 minutes and they Jeep was out on the main road heading far away from the scene. While the cluster of Murkoff personnel were hard at work finding their way down the twisted driveway the best they could without running into anything. Funny enough there wasn’t any sort of traps at all, but they didn’t know that. In fact their very reactions are what Waylon had planned for. Murkoff being Murkoff would without a doubt be as careful as they could combing through everything the way they did so the need to actually buy the traps seemed pointless. Besides, it was far funnier this way. A small bit of humor in a bleak situation.


	3. The Runaways

The chances of them looking back were slim to none as they beelined for the highway. A good strategy in itself. Murkoff would expect them to travel back roads. Consequently, that is where most of them would accumulate for the time being and neither Waylon nor Miles had to utter a word about that plan as the jeep undulated easily over the pavement, slowing down after a good way to abide by traffic laws. Something Waylon was sure Miles wouldn’t do normally if it weren’t for the fact that they were entering the small town. Just cutting through most likely, at least that’s what the smaller male anticipated until he glanced at the gas gage.

As they pulled into the gas station, Miles vaulted from the vehicle with a firm “Stay,” before flinging the door shut. 

It was little but the tone variation in his voice made the computer tech shiver, and not in a good way. It may have only been one word but it was said with such coldness that for only a moment he worried what might happen if he didn’t listen. The blonde hadn’t seen Miles since their small video session back in Mount Massive and even that lasted only about 10 minutes or so. Still, the emails they exchanged were few, but he still seemed to get a reliable discernment of the others character in his messages. It was only when he was out of that hell hole that he even learned that Miles had been in there. It came to him as he rifled through the jeeps glove compartment during his escape, knocking out some of the jeeps insurance papers with Miles’ name plastered at the top. It was something that had haunted him for years. Another body that he caused to pile up. Nevertheless, that man was here now and it seemed almost dreamlike. Something far beyond the scope of his control must have brought them together. Something holy maybe...or sinister. 

As Waylon's thoughts caught him the brunette went around and spent a minute pumping gas before turning and heading into the building. Leaving the other alone to his own devices. Something to which made Waylon quite apprehensive as the neurotic part of his brain began to activate, overwhelming his attentive mind with frightful what-if scenarios of the corporation reappearing and once again acquiring a hold on him. The longer he sat the more unfortunate his thoughts seemed to grow. His hands shaking and head swiveling back and forth frantically as he scanned the quaint town around them for any telltale signs.

Amid this self-induced panic attack, Miles flew back to the jeep and through a case of beer and a large white sack full of things into the back before surmounting himself inside and taking off. Speeding out faster then he should have, but slowing down not once more when the station was no longer in view. It was perplexing, to say the least, and left Waylon feeling more than uncomfortable as he continued to look around speculating that perhaps Murkoff had been near them. 

“M...Miles,” he began the shaking voice as it tried to lighten the mood just a bit. “What did you get back there?”

“Oh nothing much,” came the immediate reply followed by that ludicrous smirk of his. “I got a case of beer, 6 bags of beef jerky, and 2 bags of Doritos. Family size.” His face turned to Waylon momentarily as his brows uplifted then lowered with childish awareness. It seemed to lighten the mood and Waylon couldn’t help but grin. Honestly, it all sounded pretty good. Unnecessary, but good.

“Six bags though Mile?” He chortled. “Really?”

“Hey, nothing beats a good slab of dehydrated meat.” He paused then added quickly. “No homo.” 

The whole narrative was received with bewilderment as the latter struggled to process the last bit of the sentence. His face must have scrunched up humorously because Miles retorted with an audible “pffft” letting a bit of spittle fly onto the dash as he gave a small laugh. 

Nothing more was exchanged between the two for the time being. Each man lost in his thoughts as the town passed by them. Ultimately shifting into long ribbons of trees that became the highway. A lengthy stretch of pavement that Waylon hadn’t been on in so long. It appeared like an empty but munificent beast all rolled into one monstrous sleeping giant. The tech could hardly contain himself as he watched the other automobiles pass by. For so long he had avoided this stretch of road. Looking at it like a plague that would lead the infection that was Mount Massive right to him. Yet now it was one of the most reliable places he could be. While only for this fleeting moment. It was like needing a knife in your gut to live. Perplexing and painful in everything it was.

The feeling made him sick. It twisted his stomach in a mild vomitous panic as the trees and cars zipped by. The beams of sunlight hitting his face directly, causing his eyes to close in irritation. If he had chanced to look over at the other he would have noticed Miles slipping on a pair of sunglasses. Smudged and scratched from weeks of being tossed half hazardly about the vehicle in the others typical disorderly behavior.

As time wore on Waylon watched the sun move across the sky. How long had been staring out that window? Suddenly as if by some supernatural foreknowledge, Miles let his arm leave the steering wheel for a mere moment so that he could shove an elbow playfully into his companion's side, breaking his attention from the road.

"Don't worry so much Park," he consoled. "We'll make it outta this hodgepodge."

The blonde straightened and peered over at his friend with a perplexed expression. "Hodgepodge?" he asked with a laugh. "Didn't think you would use a word like that."

"Hey, I'll have you know I possess quite an extensive vocabulary," he stated smugly. "I am a journalist after all." His bright eyes turned briefly from the road to look the other male up and down. "I was a renowned writer and I still am. Distinguished in my craft and known for abrasive honesty."

"Simply put you write like an asshole," Waylon infringed. A note of comical melancholy in his voice.

Both men shared a small laugh at the animadversion as they turned onto an off-ramp, the built-up tension suddenly dissipating from the day's travels. As a consequence, they could converse more comfortably now. Prattling on about nonsensical notions as if they were rekindled, childhood friends. This only began to die down when the evening fell. It became an unspoken rule of sorts, to mute the noise as much as possible, lest they catch unwanted attention by the monstrosities that sought after them. It would only be when Miles had paid for a motel and the pair were safely in their room, door bolted that they would once again begin to relax.

"You paid for the room right?" the blonde questioned mischievously. "Unlike the previsions from the gas station."

Miles let a small snort escape as he dumped the food on the single bed. "Nothing gets passed you eh Park?" He teased, "but yes I did pay for the room. It would be a little to difficult to lift it from the foundation and drive away don't ya think?"

Waylon shook his head as he set down on the corner of the mattress. "You're a fresh drink of water aren't you?" He laughed lightly as he began to reminisce about Lisa again. "Can't lie it's quite refreshing after all this time."

"Well I'm quite the refreshing guy," the latter declared, snagging a beer from the box. "Although I like to think of myself more like an ecstatic mastermind then just some refreshing guy. If that's alright with you." He raised the can as if he were toasting to his own sentiments before cracking it open and taking a sizable gulp. The foam trickling down his chin in his enthusiasm for the well-deserved brew.

"You know," he remarked coyly, the can now lightly swirling what was left of its contents. "As a thank you, you could polish my meat."

Waylon turned almost instantaneously at the proposal that escaped the other's lips. "Polish your meat?" He questioned vehemently. A look that one could only describe as utterly dumbfounded crossing his features. "Who uses that turn-of-phrase when trying to get into someone's pants?"

"I do, obviously, as a journalist, I harbor a variety of fashionable euphemisms." He chuckled coming to stand in front of the other before kneeling on one knee. "Listen, Park, you and I just went through a whole mess of shit. Not to mention the world's largest mass collective mental and physical butt fucking a year before. We've lost a lot that we can never get back. There's a lot of tension there. I know you're straight and all but maybe having a romp with a guy who understands may relieve at least a bit of that tension. Could help ya at least sleep a little better tonight."

The smaller male gazed into his companion's eyes. They were full of more sincerity then he had originally thought possible. Giving a deep sigh he allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "Alright for starters I'm not straight I'm bi, "he replied lividly, "and secondly...releasing some of the tension wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Miles smirked, his serine expression disappearing in lee of a much more mischievous one. With a swift reaction, he arose, moving forward to capture the smaller man's lips in an exasperated kiss. A surprise that the blonde wasn't expecting so suddenly but accepted nonetheless returning the affection with his own as the pair hastened backward, resting atop the bewilderingly hued bedspread. Their hands working expeditiously to discard the clothes that bound them. Each hardly stopping to look at the other as their lips once again joined. The heat of their passion rising exceedingly.

As Miles's finger grazed the smaller man's tight passage, everything seemed to slow. He began scattering small tentative kisses along the blondes collarbone as a single-digit slid in gradually. Slowly curling and moving before it's deeming the muscles loose enough to receive more. "I'm adding in another," he murmured longingly as a second finger made it's way inside. The others hips shifting upwards to make the insertion easier.

Waylon's breath began to grow heavier, his body twitching with each bend and twirl of Mile's cleverly placed fingers. His hips jolting when the other located his prostate gland. Moans began more uncontrollably now, and the techy could only lay there rocking against the solid body above him needfully.

"Fuck I can't take this anymore Park," Miles stammered as he withdrew and raised himself upon his knees. "I'm putting it in."

The smaller man could only nod as the thick shaft rubbed lightly over his rosy lip, his taut cheeks gripped firmly in the journalist's free hand before the hefty shape was pushed inside sending a jolt through his slender body and an audible cry of pain fueled pleasure from his mouth. 

"Damn Park I knew you were a tight ass but this is ridiculous," came the gleeful retort as his heavy hips lurched forward making it nearly impossible to give a clear answer. Instead, he was met with inaudible murmurs mixed with boisterous moans as the movements progressed. Each man becoming lost in the pleasures before them. Their bodies sweaty and heated with desire until climax hit. Waylon's muscles tensing and squeezing tightly as a tumultuous cry launched from his throat. Miles responded by a continued surge of speed, thrusting into the other male relentlessly, his pace not slowing as he slammed against his companion's good spot. The hot seed spilling inside at the sound of Waylon's flushed wails. His body vibrating from orgasm as he rode out the high, slowing to a stop and pulling out only to flop to the side in exasperated satisfaction.

"Damn I needed that how 'bout you?" The exhausted man enquired giving the other's thigh a firm slap.

Waylon nodded in agreement, his chest heaving from the workout as the muscles in his pelvis quivered from the aftershock. The slick beginning to ooze from him in a small stream. "I don't even mind that you came inside," he breathed and gave a small chuckle. 

"Shit, sorry 'bout that. Kinda lost my head there ya know?"

The blonde laughed a little but said nothing more as his eyes began to close. Sleep reaching him wearily as all cognitive thoughts lifted away. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he was at peace.


	4. Friend or Foe

When morning had finally arrived, Waylon was snuggled deep beneath the hefty converter with little to no thoughts of anything but the soundness that beset him. A feeling of contentment derived from the spontaneous romp provided to him by his hell worthy comrade. In spite of the struggles that had occurred the day prior, it was a much-needed bit of release the former technician wasn't going to take lightly. Shifting himself just a bit, the man grabbed the pillow from under his head, dragging it carelessly at an angle to hug it as he slept on. A gentle yet slightly grating inhale suggesting he could start snoring at any moment.

Miles, on the other hand, was at the bathroom sink, his head bent down feebly. He could feel a hot flush of energy coursing through his veins, threatening to burst from its fleshy prison. It was the walrider. The dark entity that now inhabited his body with belligerent fortitude was looming dangerously close to the forefront of his psyche. It was once again venturing to take absolute command of the body that hosted it, something that seemed to often occur without much warning as of late. Ever since he had tracked down Park's whereabouts the beast within him seemed far more anxious than normal, aggressively fighting for control at arbitrary times. Something that usually only happened when Miles found himself in mortal danger, yet now the sporadic takeover's seemed to happen far too often for his taste.

Closing his eyes, the gruff-looking man splashed his face with water before giving an audible groan of dissatisfaction. It was taking every nerve he had to keep the creature inside. Something had set it off big time, and its pushy nature was becoming harder and harder to defy. 

"Just fucking stop already," he growled into the mirror and the whites of his eyes briefly flashed to black. "What are you after? What about Park has gotten you so tied up in knots?"

The question was met with a surge of heat, rumbling up right behind the male's sinuses. It felt like someone had just poured steaming water into his system, and Miles couldn't keep himself from wincing, nearly bending a knee as the feeling pushed out over his body. Tickling his fingertips as the blackness overtook his consciousness.

In the bed, the blonde had finally stirred a bit, the sounds of the journalist's movements in the bathroom catching him with a sudden spark of adrenalin. He sat up quickly before looking around hastily. The curtains were still drawn, and the air was still. All of their things remained right where they had left them the night before, indicating to the other that he could relax a bit.

"Miles," he said groggily and stood slightly on shaky legs as memories from the night before came flooding back, prompting him to smirk. "Was I to rough on you last night?" The joke wasn't meant to do much more than elicit a small laugh maybe, but instead, the bathroom door flung open with such an intense force, that it left an indention in the wall behind it, causing Waylon to nearly jump out of his skin. "Hey! I was only kidding!" He managed to choke out before turning to meet the corrupt gaze standing in the entryway. To Waylon's horror, the once bright eyes of the journalist were now much like two deep inky pools, from which a small dot of white sprang forth. Something altogether inhuman by any account.

"Do not fear me, patient 2536," the man declared firmly. "I am not your enemy." His voice sounded like Miles, yet there was a deep discernable echo that played behind every syllable in a twisted array of melancholic notes, sending a stream of shivers through the blonde as he quickly found himself backing away. There was no way else to look at it. Like a spark clicking to life an old engine, as did Waylon's connection to the being he now faced. 

"You're not Miles," he replied lividly and raised a finger to point almost childishly at the being. "You're the Walrider! That thing Murkoff tried to put inside me!"

The response was a burst of deeply intrusive laughter that penetrated the former technician right to his bones. "Yes," it acknowledged almost gleefully. "I am also the being that saved you from that hellish place. Don't you remember?" He paused as he took a step forward. "I tore apart that pathetic excuse for a human being. That former boss of yours and the reason you suffered so."

"Y...Yes," the smaller male stuttered, unable to move. "I remember. You tore him apart. Blood was everywhere."

"Indeed," The walrider cackled and stroked it's temple as if it were reminiscing over a fond memory. "His body was so easy to seperate, like picking apart a flower petal by petal. Of course, I would have thought Blair was more of a weed than anything else wouldn't you agree?" He paused again almost allowing Waylon to answer but instead he continued rather forcibly. "So then what does that make you 2536? Judging by your sense of justice I would have said flower, but then again you ran from me the moment your way was opened!"

All at once, he lunged forward pinning the blonde to the ground with a loud boom encompassing the room. His brows furrowed downwards as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Without any concern for your savior you ran. Like some pansy-ass rodent, you split leaving me behind, energy-depleting and barely enough means for escape."

The rage poured out of him yet, his grip on the other wasn't painful. It was firm enough to hold him in place but not so much to cause any damage. It was something that confused Waylon until he met the hurt behind the darkened eyes. Back then he had been operating on pure adrenalin. Seeing how easily the walrider had disposed of Blair made his survival switch click into gear for fear of the same thing happening to himself, but in doing so he had inadvertently left behind another victim.

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat the blonde knew what had to be said. "I'm sorry," he crooned fearfully. "I was just...it was..."

"Frightening?" interrupted the creature before him. "I suppose you're one who can understand the depth of my plight considering you were forced into that bonding program." He smiled again, yet this time it was softer, more understanding than before. "That's how I got to know you 2536. When they linked us up I could see your mind. I felt your heart, your fear, it was so beautiful. With a little more work you and I could have been bonded instead of Upshur and me." 

Waylon swallowed heavily as the words reached his ears. The feeling that poured from this creature was both frightening and mournful all at once and the smaller male wasn't sure how to take it. All he could do was listen quietly for now.

"Miles was quite unexpected to behold," The walrider continued melancholically. "But I knew right away that we would imprint perfectly on one another. That's why I took him. As much as I wanted it to be you, there were some...imperfections that prevented me from taking you without that blasted machine. Nevertheless, we are here now, together. You need me if you hope to avoid Murkoff. They have plenty of other experiments abound and won't think twice in unleashing them upon us."

"More experiments?" the latter questioned nervously. "Like you?"

The walrider shook his head. "Not like me...different."

"The blonde gave a heavy sigh. "Alright," he said finally. "I need you. We need you. Miles and I can't do this thing alone. If we're gonna be on the run for the rest of our lives at least we can at the very least gain the upper hand with your assistance."

"You understand the weight of your words 2536? If you betray me..."

"I won't do that again!" He interrupted suddenly. His tone far harsher than originally intended. "I'm ashamed that I made such a hasty action to someone used and abused like I was. I...I don't know how many more times I can apologize but if you'll let me I can make it up to you along this journey together."

The walrider lowered himself so that he was only a centimeter away from the other's lips. His hot breath stinging his skin with labored heat. "Oh, I know you'll make it up to me. You can count on that, but everything in due time 2536. For now, you an Upshur need to plan your next move carefully. See you tonight."

With that, the darkness faded slowly from his eyes allowing Miles' body to fall heavily upon the lesser man with a low groan.


	5. The Plan

Both men fell into silence It was only a minute or so before the former journalist finally stirred. He sat up with a low groan, his head resting briefly against the blonde's shoulder as he regained some balance, the haziness clearing before he even decided to speak. 

Waylon's own gaze looked upon the man with worried intrigue as he waited patiently, his hands resting on Mile's shoulders for stability as his senses came back to him. There was so much he wanted to enquire about the events that had just transpired. Had Mile's been able to hear everything the Walrider was saying? What sort of plan could they make to get out of this mess? What information about the Walrider did he know? So many pieces were bubbling up to the surface at an alarming rate and Waylon knew they were struggling to keep up with it. If they stumbled now they would fall for sure. 

"Fuck!" The latter cursed suddenly bringing a shaky palm up to cup his temple. "That nano ass cock sucker!" The former computer tech quickly reached up and took the others face in his hands. An act that seemed to quell his temper just a bit before he spoke once more. "I'm sorry you had to see that Park," He explained almost fearfully. "I really tried to hold him back. He's done nothing but talk nonstop about giving you a piece of his mind."

"So you know what he said then?" Waylon asked eagerly, his eyes holding a show of relief at the possible notion.

"Yeah," came a somber response. "I heard it all, and I felt his anger. That's why I am so drained. Normally If I let him out willingly it's not so bad but, he forced his way out this time and that was very draining." Miles paused and sat back for a moment. It was all to clear that he was more than exhausted because of the ordeal. You never would have known that the man had just woke up not that long ago. Suddenly, an interesting query came to the blonde and he gave no hesitation in asking it.

"Miles, when the walrider comes out do you see any strange symbols in front of your eyes?" The question was as straightforward as they come. Nothing was left to chance in this instance and the smaller male felt that it was the right step to take in this instance. Normally he would have lead into such a question with much more finesse, giving Miles some time to put the breaks on the crazy, but after what just went down Waylon felt like someone had hit his hyper mode button and thus he was convinced that everything getting out and straight to the point a far better road to take.

Miles, in turn, looked at him plainly with no show of confusion or uncertainty. "Symbols, like the ones you see?" He asked tilting his head then shrugged. "Nah I don't see anything like that. I just see...a shadowy version of what everything is."

Waylon shrugged and stood, grabbing the others arm and helping him do the same. "Well right now I'm hungry. Let's check out and go get breakfast." The request was given an affirmed nod as both men scrambled to get their things and practically ran out the door. Once again making a firm beeline for the road with about every cautious look back as they felt warranted, eventually finding themselves at a Denny's not far out of the way. 

Waylon initially questioned Miles about having to pay but the latter quelled the complaints with a show of a small bundle of cash he pulled from a lockbox under the seat. It was only a few minutes after that, that the pair was seating in a booth, leaning back with a nice cup off coffee in their hands. Miles laughed at Waylon and his addition of Hazelnut creamer and sugar while taking a good long drink of his own steaming black brew.

"You know," Waylon interrupted, "The walrider was right about one thing. We do need some sort of plan. Murkoff isn't going to stop chasing us and if they have more experiments I think it will be safe to assume they may send some of them our way."

Miles sat down his cup with an unpretentious sigh and shook his head. "Yeah, I know," he exclaimed quietly. "We gotta make a decision here."

Both men fell quiet. Each staring aimlessly at their respective cups of coffee as a barrage of thoughts raced through their minds. Each of them containing a multitude of reckless scenarios that were carefully mulled over, calculated, and picked apart piece by piece then tossed aside when it didn't measure up to either standard. Finally, however, Miles made a declaration just as the food arrived.

"I've got it," he declared allowed, nearly making the waitress jump out of her skin when he did so. He laughed apologetically and waited to continue until after she had left. "I know a little place, very far off the beaten path. A friend of mine used to own it long ago but now it sits abandoned." He paused to scarf down a forkful of eggs. "Seriously Park, this place is in the middle of this godforsaken forest with no one around for miles. The nearest town is about an hour and a half away. We would have to do lots of our own farming and hunting and shit but it would be a good place to chill off the beaten path."

His enthusiasm didn't make Waylon's nervousness go away any easier but the sound of such an isolated estate sounded like a lifesaver. "You said this friend of yours no longer owns it, who does?"

"That's the beauty of it," came the eager reply. "It's government protected. Apparently, there are some rare species of plants and insects there. The guy's family technically still has a claim to the land itself but nobody ever goes there. They leave it completely to the wildlife. One guy may go there once a year to collect a sample or two of but he ain't going anywhere near where we will be. The cabin is at the very center ya see? Along down a beat ta shit road, you gotta need four-wheel drive to get through. He said he used to go there to think, so he made it look like a hazard to get through to keep people out. Ta think huh? Nah I think he was growing some serious hash if ya catch my drift. I only been there a handful of times but I remember it pretty well."

The blonde gave a small sigh and grew quiet again as he thought it over. "Lemmy guess, there isn't any electricity?"

"This mother fucker has solar power bull shit and a nice generater. I tell ya this place is completely rigged to be on it's own. Nobody knew where he was when he went there, nobody! As far as the outside world is concerned, oit doesn't exist. We'de be set for a good long while."

Waylon finally gave a small smirk of a smile and nodded. "Alright, sounds like a good plan, but what if this guy comes back? Won't he be pissed?"

Miles shook his head. "Sorry, but unfortunately he killed himself some time ago. Guy had lots of inner demons."

Waylon swollowed hard. "Oh, I don't..."

"Don't worry about it," the taller male interupted. "It was so long ago. Lets just eat for now and then we can be on our way."

The pair ate the rest of the meal in silence, each enjoying this simple reward for one night of hell. Both understanding that it was a long road ahead. One that would take lots of fight to travel.


End file.
